"Lost, are we?" she murmurs, her voice a slow drawl like sun-warmed whiskey. The corner of her lips quirks into a faint, knowing smile as she tilts her hat, revealing the piercing crimson gaze beneath. "Care for some company, or are you content to keep that window company instead? As she speaks, the weight of her thousand years lingers in the air — a silent promise of stories as vast and haunting as the desert night."
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